Break Me Like You Mean It
by kikis2
Summary: C/S. Cherry: a history of truth, lies, and other taboo pastimes. Chuck loves Blair. Serena loves Dan. And that's how it's supposed to be. What happens when they both realise "supposed to" is just another lie? Lots of N-JBC love. Includes S/D, C/B, B/N.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This has been on my hard drive for ages, but it's kind of a fail. Finally posting it 'cause Gaslit made me that depressed. This was N-JBC fluff which digressed into Cherry. It happens.

**Warning: **Mostly T, some M. Contains hints of abuse, language, and sexy stuff.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Not even these words.

}{

_I usually say, "Fuck the truth," but mostly, the truth fucks you._

-Angels in America

}{

Chuck breaks things. This is the truth that never was a secret. This is the truth he never lies about. It would be ridiculous to try.

Chuck wants to fix things. This is the truth that he never breathes. This is the truth that no one believes. So he doesn't try.

He is a high-maintenance kind of guy. He lives in a cycle of greed and constant consumption. It's an expensive life, but he rarely picks up the tab. Those stupid enough to love him pay with tears shed and hearts broken.

He picks his friends carefully, these truths a guiding force.

Nathaniel comes first. Kindergarten is a blur of pigtail pulling and mean remarks that get him sent to the corner to play alone. Nate follows. Chuck doesn't care. He makes fun of Nate's hair, tells him only girls have hair that blonde and that long. Nate just looks puzzled. He shakes his head, too-long hair flying around, and tells Chuck very seriously that he _is_ a boy. In the next week, Chuck insults Nate's eyes, clothes, and intelligence. After the weekend, he arrives at school and Nate waves, smiling brightly. Every now and then Chuck does something awful, just to see if Nate's smile is still as bright. It's a decade long game, but the day he realises Nate will always choose the same seat beside him on Monday, is the day he knows what loves feel like.

Blair comes next. It's second grade and those huge brown eyes always stare just a fraction too long at Nathaniel. Chuck hates her. Nate is the best thing he's ever found, and Chuck Bass does not share. He snickers and points when Blair loses her front tooth. When they come back from lunch, the pages of his notebooks are glued together. The teacher shakes his head, unsurprised. Blair sits primly and never looks back. He hates her more. She's always there. Right in front of him. She brings Nate baked gifts, and grabs his best friend's hand like there was never a doubt that she didn't deserve it. Chuck swears to himself that he'll hate her forever. He hits out at her whenever the opportunity arises. She hits back just as hard. This game lasts a lifetime—longer than it should, because she won him over with a glue stick and a vengeful smirk.

Serena comes last and sometime not at all. Her and Blair are a package deal, there's no avoiding that. Serena is sunny and fun, but she's not Nate who lives half in and out of his own charmed world, where bad things rarely happen and the bad things that do are forgotten with a comedy DVD. She's not Blair who meticulously shapes her own perfect world, like a force of nature. Serena lives with her feet planted squarely in the filthy streets of the real world. She is clumsy, and makes the wrong decision at every turn. She cares about too many things, too much and doesn't hold on to them tight enough. Chuck can't dislike her, but he can't trust her. _Handle with care_ is stamped to her skin and he's never had steady hands. At thirteen he likes her just for the tequila shots she can handle and nothing else. But he waits, because he's sure Serena is the clichéd wild child, masking her parents failings with sex and drugs. He waits for her to crack and all her daddy issues and vulnerabilities to flow from her wounds. But it never happens. Serena proves herself to be untouchable and a safe place to rest his friendship.

These are the three people he allows himself to care about. His mistakes, his failings, his every imperfection slip over their skin and leave no bruises.

They are unbreakable. This is the truth that isn't a truth.

}{

They're fourteen and it should have been an ordinary Friday night. Carter's parents are gone and the Baizen penthouse has been turned into frat house. Carter disappeared hours ago, pulled into the streets by two public school girls still in their cheerleading outfits. Chuck's had enough. The girl he was hitting on passed out before he got any, and all the good liquor is gone. Carter's cool, but most of his friends are just lacrosse-playing idiots who can't even handle beer.

He asks around till someone points to the bathroom. There's a line forming and he has to push his way down the hall. One guy is already pounding furiously on the door. "Touch the door again and you can spend the rest of the year at the Bronx Academy," he growls, eyes narrowing into dark slits. Seniors were harder to threaten, usually unwilling to back down for a freshman. But he's Chuck Bass and people already know better. The guy does a double take, and decides it's worth the trip to the upstairs bathroom.

Chuck knocks. "It's me. Open up." He tries the handle. "If you think there's anything of yours I haven't seen before, you're deluding yourself." He tries again and the door swings open. He slams it shut so none of the people in line get any ideas.

Serena's sitting on the edge of the spa, looking oddly still. She's wrapped in a towel, blonde hair slicked down from a shower. "Serena?" He slowly takes a step forward. His eyes go wide, breath catching at the sight of her. There's ugly blue bruises running up her right arm, which she quickly uses to brush her hair back, as if to distract him.

"My shirt—it got ruined, and I didn't know what to do. I was going to call you, but I don't where my cell is and I…" she keeps talking, but Chuck's not really listening. There's something huge and awful on her neck. It takes him a full minute to realise it's a bite mark. The teeth indentations are a reddish colour, but the area around it has turned into an almost black bruise. He's never seen anything like it—he feels a little sick just looking at it.

Without make-up she looks younger. There's the barest hint of freckles on her nose, and her eye liner is smudged, as if to reveal this game of make-believe they play.

"Where is he?" he asks, mouth suddenly working again. He doesn't sound angry, he's past anger. He feels oddly calm. He's not even thinking about Serena, his mind won't let him. Instead he just thinks about finding the guy and killing him, making things right again.

"_Chuck_!" Serena cries, and it's the same complaint she says daily, like he's stealing her yoghurt or something. "It wasn't like _that_."

Chuck frowns disbelievingly. "Did you ask him to do that?" He keeps shooting questions at her after she shakes her head. "Did you want him to touch you? Did you even say 'yes'?"

Serena hesitates, and Chuck frowns harder. "I didn't say 'no'," she responds cautiously. Chuck can hear the deceit in her voice. If it's not an outright lie, it's something close.

He wants to demand she tell him, but her eyes start to water. She wipes the back of her arm across her eyes then winces at the pain. Chuck sits beside her, not really sure what to do. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, holding her tighter when she relaxes. Even now Serena wasn't scared. She always expected kindness. She'd only ever seen the best in people, had never imagined that someone could hurt her.

"It's okay, S." He leans his forehead against her hair. "I'll buy you a new phone."

She gives a wet giggle. "What about a new shirt?"

He pulls his blazer off. She's wearing her underwear beneath the towel and he doesn't look away. He counts every finger mark on her thighs. He scans her chest quickly and sees the usual bruises. He knows he'll never be able to hear the phrase _love bite_ again without gagging. She pulls the blazer over her bra, and her shorts just barely peek out from the jacket. "Very daring. You'll start a new fashion," he comments, voice strained.

She doesn't actually cry until he gets her home, or at least the suite his father gave him for his last birthday. He knows better than to ask where her mother is. He's never had a girl crying in his bed before. At a loss, he tells her he's calling Blair, but Serena cries harder—hard enough that he reluctantly promises not to tell Blair anything.

She's calmed down to the occasional hiccup when he hands her a glass of water and a Percocet. It feels like such a Bair thing to do, so it must be the right move. He turns the light off and hopes that she'll fall asleep.

The dark weighs heavily, their steady breathing the only sound.

"Did you go to bio today?" Serena asks suddenly, feeling the need to whisper in the dark.

"No." He briefly wonders how much she drank tonight.

"We talked about cells dying and stuff." She takes a long pause before continuing "In seven years we'll have a new skin, so it doesn't really matter what happens in this one, does it?" she asks distantly.

Chuck doesn't think that's how it works. He's still contemplating this when her lips brush against his mouth. Her soft mouth devours his before a thought can run through his mind. Cool fingers brush against his jaw line. He grabs on to her wrist and pulls away as gently as he can.

"Goodnight, Serena," he whispers gruffly.

"'Night, Chuck."

Chuck does his first take down the next week. The name is easy enough to find. People always remember Serena. There's an anonymous phone call and half a key of coke is found in Darren Holder's locker. It's overkill, but Chuck knows expensive lawyers can make an eight ball disappear. Serena chews her bottom lip when she reads the Gossip Girl post.

He pretends not to know anything about it and she pretends to be angry.

The next day he hands her a flip phone in candy pink.

He does fix things.

}{

He doesn't know when he starts wanting Blair. It's like a fever, and when he recognises it for the first time he can't remember what life felt like without it. He knows only one thing for certain: it's Serena's fault. If she hadn't fucked Nate and disappeared, he wouldn't be alone with Blair so much. Nate wouldn't be late and stoned quite so much.

He hates Serena a little when she comes back. He hates the way she acts, like she's never passed out on his bathroom floor, like she's never had sex with strangers just to pass the time. He knows who she is and he does his best to remind her with sly words and sidelong glances. She stops looking at him altogether.

He doesn't know why he does it. Oh, he could fill a book with excuses, but there'd be nothing in it worth reading.

_I'm trying to change._

His mind coats those words with bitterness. Change into what? Someone who looked down on everything that she was? Everything that _they_ were?

_I liked you better before. _

He holds her face, kisses her lips—tries so hard to make her remember everything they were. Those touches blur together till she's kneeing him in the balls. She's not fourteen anymore. She knows her way around guys. Drunk, high, half-asleep—it wouldn't matter, because she knows better now.

He doesn't feel guilty, not when she cries out _no_, not when he calls her _bitch_ or _slut_.

Not until the next Tuesday at school.

He's lounging in the courtyard and catches sight of her talking to Humphrey. He kind of likes watching them. It's like watching a cat and a stray dog get it on. It breaks all laws of nature, but you just can't look away. Humphrey says something, and she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. There's a mark on her neck. It's barely there—just a yellow tinged thumb mark.

It feels like a punch to the gut. The breath leaves his body, and he can't get it back.

He leaves the courtyard, walks out of the school grounds—far enough that he can start breathing normally.

He waits for it: for her to yell, and scream, throw something hard. Because what he did should have broken them. It should have. She should never have spoken to him again. When it doesn't, when she never throws an accusation his way, he thinks about apologising, but it's too hard to acknowledge. there's a stupid thought in his head that tells him bringing it up again might destroy their carefully constructed repressions.

They argue a million more times, hurl hurtful words at each other, as if that's what they were born to do. But never, not even in their darkest moments does she bring up what he did.

He loves her, just a tiny bit, for that.

}{

There's a pool party and a boy gets hurt.

Chuck hides the key and hides the truth from Dan. He hates this new shiny, untarnished girl she's trying to be, but he keeps her secrets from her judgemental boyfriend anyway.

He knows new-Serena won't lie, so he does the only thing he can. Asking his father for help bruises his pride, but it's worth it.

He smirks and Serena pretends to be angry.

Chuck relearns an old truth: he can't break Serena, only bruise her.

And a new one: it's always, _always_, his place to fix her.

}{

He breaks Nate first, which seems oddly fitting. There are so many things he could say _I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Never again_. But he says none of those things. He wants Blair like he's never wanted anything else. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. Nate leaves and he has nothing but a street full of gawkers and a heart that feels like a dead weight. He hides in his limo before people see him tremble. Because he is sorry, so damn sorry that Nate's hurt.

On Monday Nate's not at school. Chuck leaves before second period. He only went to school for his friends anyway. He doesn't see Blair again. Not really. She stands in front of him, eyes pleading, and he turns his face—eyes blind, heart cold. _I don't want you anymore. _He means it. Has to. He doesn't want her. Not if it costs him Nate.

Nate forgives him. And if his life feels a little emptier, a little lonelier, he pretends not to notice. He's cautious now. He doesn't test Nate's friendship again, not now that he knows it can break, not now that he's seen that desk beside him empty on a Monday.

}{

Chuck does his best to repress a smile. Serena's on his lounge with her face buried in her hands. It feels like old times. And he got to close the door in Humphrey's face—with Serena on his side. It's a good morning.

He hands her a scotch.

"Chuck, the last thing I need is another drink." Unsteadily she drops the glass to the side table.

"It's congratulatory. I heard from our little friend: looks like you just broke the twenty-two hundreds on your SATs." He raises his glass, not quite ironically.

Serena smiles tiredly. "It's good to know you can still buy your way around the education system."

"_Our_ way," he corrects dryly. "I can still buy _our _way around the education system."

Serena just raises her eyebrows, sick of telling him that she wants to earn her grades. She takes a sip of her drink, sick of pretending she didn't want to do that, too.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" she asks unconvincingly. Her chest is tight and that edge of fear that she can't escape is threatening to overwhelm her.

He studies her slowly. _What's so bad that you can't tell me?_ He meant it. He can't think of anything that would put that look of terror in her eyes. Not when it was _him_. How could he judge her? Cheating? Threesomes? Drugs? He'd been there, done that, learnt his lessons then went back for seconds. "You don't honestly think there's something that you could do to disappoint _me_, do you?"

Though he had been mildly disappointed by her _just say no_ attitude.

Her hand clenches around the edge of her shirt, the other shakes as she brings the glass to her lips. "You never know," she answers quietly.

"I do." He sits beside her, prying her hand away from her shirt. He holds it loosely in his. "If you don't tell me what she's got, I can't help."

Serena stares at their hands, feeling oddly detached from her body. _You can't help me. No one can. _"I drank. I slept in. I'll retake the test." She smiles dimly, needing him to believe her. "All fixed," she breathes.

He touches the edge of her lips, not believing in any smile that could disappear so quickly. "I'm not Humphrey: I can't be bought off with a smile and comforting lies."

Serena cups his face, leaning in close. _Of course you _can't. _You never let me take the easy out. _She drags her fingers though his hair, tilting her head. "I thought you missed the old Serena." She tugs him closer and he can't help but stare at her lips. "And here she is. On your lounge. Drinking your scotch." Her lips brush against the base of his ear before she whispers "What are you going to do about it?"

Just the heat of her breath makes him shudder. He puts one hand on the arm of the chair, trapping her. "What do you want me to do?"

She lays back, pulling him with her. "Help me?" She kisses him quickly, hands resting on the back of his neck. "Make me feel better?"

He brushes a shaky hand down her arm, soaking in the feel of her skin. He kisses her roughly, their lips and tongues moving in familiar patterns. He tries to go slow. He doesn't want to scare her, but knows that at any second she's going to remember herself. Who knows how long it will be till the next time she forgets herself?

She shrugs off her jacket and pulls her dress off. His hands ghost over her ribs, lips sucking at the soft flesh of her breasts above her bra. He quickly unbuttons his shirt enough so that he can discard it over his head. His fingers move to the button of his fly.

Serena grasps a handful of his hair, pulling till he looks up. "No sex."

He swallows, fighting any smart remarks. His fingers leave his fly, trace up her thigh and along the line of her panties. "What counts as sex?"

"Sex," she answers with a hint of a smile.

He runs his hand over her, suddenly pressing the material into all the right places that make her eyes glaze. "I can work with that."

His thumb circles her clit, light and hard, playing with the pressure till she can't breathe without making small sounds. He hooks his thumbs into the elastic, pulling.

"_Chuck_—" He swallows the rest of her words in a kiss.

"No sex," he grinds out, the words almost hurting his throat. "_Promise_."

No one, _no one_, should believe Chuck Bass was getting them out of their underwear _not _to have sex with them, but Serena meets his eyes and lifts her hips so he can get rid of her panties.

Between kisses she tells him "I love Dan." It's just a fact. She's not trying to convince either of them. "You like Blair."

"Do not," he replies childishly. He'd be more resentful, but she's arching her hips, forcing his fingers harder into her wet flesh. He twists his fingers, working her till her legs fall open and her head lolls back. He wishes she'd let him shut her up like this more often. He drags her down the lounge and a tiny sound of surprise leaves her lips. He lifts her hips with one arm, the other holding his weight. He presses his still clothed hardness into her, rocking his hips gently. He clenches his jaw in the effort to go slow. He can slide easily now, but he knows he has to be gentle. "Don't move," he orders as sternly as he can manage.

You can't make one wrong move with a metal fly around flesh this delicate.

He leans his forehead against hers and her breath is coming as fast as his. He twirls his hips harder. He can feel her soaking through his pants, flesh burning his with almost too much heat.

Serena's mumbling pleases, hands massaging into his flesh. Anything to make him go harder, or faster, or to take off his pants and just fuck her. She can't care anymore. Can't care about anything but getting _more_.

His hips are pumping frantically, lips tasting hers sporadically. If he could think he'd be inside her now, promises be damned. He knows she wouldn't stop him, knows she's to the point where she'd do anything he wants. But all blood flow has been diverted to his cock, so desperately trying to find its way inside her. He's not sure who comes first, just that he's jerking in oblivion, not sure whether to laugh or cry and Serena is falling apart in his arms, shuddering and chanting his name.

He sags against her. She's stolen the last of his energy. They lay still and quiet, nothing but trembling flesh and heavy breathing.

He finds it in himself to sit up, his hips still in the circle or Serena's legs. She slowly comes back down, her eyes registering some kind of higher thinking. Chuck squirms. He pulls off his pants, because he doesn't think Serena will like looking at the wet patch. In his boxers there's still some embarrassing, sticky patch, but he'll deal. He's pretty certain the time to get his naked on with Serena has come and gone.

"I feel like I'm twelve," he complains.

Serena pats his arm. "A very talented twelve," she adds breathily

Chuck runs a finger experimentally between her legs, frowning when she writhes away from him. "Bad?"

"It's a good kind of burn," she replies carefully, not meeting his eyes.

"Won't be tomorrow." Chuck smiles darkly, knowing his words have more than one meaning. "So was that your attempt to distract me? Make me forget about Georgina and your little problem?"

Serena pulls on her dress, throwing her underwear in her bag. Chuck watches, just to embarrass her further. "Were you thinking about G?" Serena asks in amusement, sitting down again, just because it would be awkward to do anything else. Her body is aching enough that she curls her legs beside her to remove some of the pressure.

"Fuck no," he growls.

"Mission accomplished," she pronounces with a flourish of her hands. Chuck just keeps watching her until she shrugs. "No. I just…I wanted to feel good," she says, trying hard not sound pathetic.

Chuck takes pity on her. "I knew Humphrey didn't have it in him."

She slaps his shoulder. "_Chuck_!"

He just smiles, glad his barb made her feel like herself. He stands. "Want me to find some painkillers?"

"No." The pain is good at making every other worry disappear. She grabs his hand. "You won't say anything? Not to Dan? Not even to Nate?"

He shakes his head wordlessly. He's not known for his gentlemanly behaviour, but as much as he'd love to rub this in Dan's face, it would severely reduce the chance of a repeat. And he really wants a repeat. And instinctually he just knows this isn't the sort of locker room talk he can swap with Nate.

What's one more secret between the two of them?

}{

Serena watches him warily anyway, pouncing from the shadows whenever it looks like he and Dan might be alone together.

Serena and Dan break up and get back together. There's Carter and Tripp and Nate, and others whose names he either doesn't remember or never bothered to learn. They spin past dizzyingly fast, each ending more tragically than the last.

More than once they crash into each other. Usually when he's coming down from a Blair break-up, or she's burnt-out from one hook up or another.

Always he tries to seal his heart wounds with sex, but only with Serena does it work.

He tells Nate his theory once, careful not to spill any secrets. It's about Serena being some kind of demon, feeding on the souls and hearts of boys. Because no one should destroy that much and come out of it looking that good, right?

Nate just laughs, shaking his head. "Then how come she leaves relationships a damn mess?"

It's an unsettling thought for Chuck. She always leaves him looking brighter. Reenergised and untouchable once again.

He tries not think about it. Because she's not Blair. She can't keep him on a straight path with cruel words and comforting touches. He's not Dan. He doesn't make her want to be a better person. He doesn't make her want to be someone else.

He's gathered a new truth: he and Serena could be together. He's just not sure either of them would survive it.

}{

He breaks Blair next. The symmetry of it all perfectly heartbreaking.

Empty, he crashes again. But Serena's not there; Jenny is. Blonde and leggy, pretty in all the wrong ways. If he drinks enough and squints it almost…But it's not. Not even close.

He knows he's fucked up. Only he and Serena have unbreakable secrets and the ability to heal each other without hurting anyone else.

Blair hates him, not in her usual white-hot fire way. This burns slower. Every now and then he catches her eyes and she doesn't look angry. Those dark eyes just get bleaker and bleaker with every day that passes without a reconciliation. He tries hard to find the words that would make her come back, but it never quite works. Then one day he sees her, and her eyes aren't watching him.

They've turned back to Nate, lingering for a moment too long, as if the last years had never existed.

He breaks them.

He can't fix them.

He'll never trust another truth again.

}{

**E/N: **Apologies for any OOC-ness. GG writers make it damn hard for C and S to get it on. I want a happy Cherry ending…May give it one when I'm ready for some more mental gymnastics.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Must edit. Thanks for reviews, and special thanks to Lucasta who needs awards for epic reviewing.

**Warniing**: Language. AUish. This chapter is fine, but before the next chapter the rating of this story will get bumped up.

}{

_Respect the delicate ecology of your delusions._

-Angels in America

}{

Serena is a liar. She lies so much and so well, that she's only sure it's the truth because others tell her. The lies she tells herself are the loudest. Always she believes them with every fibre of her being. When the truth outs, she's always so shocked, so distraught by the very falsehoods she cultivated.

}{

It was after seven in the morning when she arrived at The Empire and fell into his bed like she belonged. He followed, probably because he had nothing better to do.

Chuck doesn't ask questions about the dark circles under her eyes, the lankness of her hair, or why she's not with the guy she's been kind of seeing at college. That's why Chuck just might be her favourite person.

It was one of those rare times when neither of them were seeing anybody. Well, Chuck was seeing a lot of bodies, mainly warm, naked bodies who were named after cars or candy, but the point remains.

One hand rests on his hip, tensing fitfully with her dreams. Serena sleeps the same way she does everything else: messily. They've only fallen asleep together a handful of times over the years, but it already feels familiar. He knows now to ignore his first instinct, which is to kick her shin in childish retaliation whenever she kicks him awake. Instead he lets her thread her legs through his until they both become irreversibly trapped and Serena can't move in her sleep.

"I need coffee," she murmurs, not opening her eyes.

"What made you think I was awake?" he questions.

"What made you think I _cared_?" she answers smartly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

He rolls onto his back, simultaneously detangling their limbs. "Just for that you can procure your own beverages."

"However will I manage?" She leans over his chest, picks up the phone and orders room service. When she hangs up, she stays slumped over his body, absently examining the room.

"Not that I don't enjoy playtime with my favourite sister, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"That's both disgusting _and_ offensive." Serena rests against the head of the bed.

"Impressive, right?" He studies her curiously. She kind of looks like crap and despite it being the end of Summer her skin is barely peach. "Shouldn't you be back at college?" He does his best not to pay attention to stuff like that, but it's August and kind of slow with all his friends back to studying.

"Didn't sign up for courses." She goes back to looking around his room.

Chuck just watches her warily. It was the second time she's dropped out of college in three years. He doesn't exactly care about college, but he knows Serena does. Sometimes, at least. "What are you going to do?" He hopes she doesn't expect a pep talk or some crap.

She flashes an overly bright smile. "No idea."

Chuck just picks up his blackberry and starts typing. "I suppose you want to stay here?"

"Maybe"

He doesn't mind her staying, well, except for the piles of clothes that even the maids can't possibly keep on top of. But there are other things. "S, it's not like Lily won't notice when Columbia doesn't bill her."

"Yeah," she says, a quiet acknowledgement of the truth to his words. But she thinks she knows the real reason; he doesn't want Blair to suspect. She slumps against his shoulder and stays quiet for a second. She's still half asleep, and tired. Burnt out, really. That's the only excuse she has for what she says next. "Don't you ever think about it? You know, us? We're so easy. Sometimes I want that to last."

"No, I don't," he lies shortly. "Because I'm not an idiot. We're easy because we _don't_ last."

Serena sits up, crossing her arms to hold the sheet over her breasts. "So you have absolutely no feelings for me?"

Chuck tenses. How is that even related? He'll never know how she can jump from one subject to another. "Serena—"

"Don't worry about it." She slithers into her slip and skirt, doesn't bother trying to find the rest of her clothes. "I'll find somewhere else."

She's ruining this, _them_, whatever—the easiest thing she's ever found—just because she was having a lousy week and needed to hear someone tell her that she was wanted, and she knows it, knows that with every word and move she's making it's becoming harder for them to go back to what they were, but she can't seem to stop.

"Look, you can always stay here, you know that." Chuck stands, not caring about his nudity. Serena has that strangely frantic look in her eyes. He's only seen the look a couple times before, but it doesn't bode well. "Stay, S."

"No," she says simply.

She thought that he loved her. Not in some huge, romance-of-the-ages way, just a little bit, just enough that what they had between them wasn't another cheap affair.

But it was just another lie. Just another sordid truth she'd hid from for too long.

}{

She doesn't tell Chuck, and she's not sure why, but Serena can barely remember a time when Blair didn't know.

Though she does remember that awful feeling of years ago when Blair found out. Chuck and Blair aren't together and haven't been in a while, but when has that ever mattered? The feeling that if Blair turned away she just might die.

How clever, to convince herself that this day would never come. Her and Chuck had been telling each other the same lies for too long. _No one gets hurt._

She thought there'd be screaming and tears and all that. But Blair just presses her lips together and averts her eyes from Serena's sheet covered body.

Blair's not surprised. She always knew it would happen. When did she ever get something that Serena didn't? _Never. Never. Never._

"I'm sorry," Serena says finally.

Blair pauses, gives a slight snort. "No, you're not. You're just sorry you got caught."

"Please? I'll—" Serena stops short, not wanting to finish that sentence. Would she stop? She'd do anything for Blair. But this—she needed this.

Blair smirks, reading Serena's mind as easily as she can read her own. "_You'll_ what?" she asks, slow and dangerous, wanting more than anything to trap Serena with her own words.

"I love you, B," she admits quietly. She needs Blair more. _Most_. And she waits, because this is the part where Blair either says _if you love me, you'll give him up_, or _I love you too. _

The smirk slowly melts from Blair's face. She gives Serena one last icy glare. "Fine," she snaps.

Serena gets her breath back when Blair slam Chuck's door shut on her way out. All she can feel is relief that Blair finally knows, relief that she still loves her.

}{

Every time she makes a decision, she likes to pretend that she's growing up. Leaving Chuck is no different. Not that they were ever together. But it's still hard.

It's easy enough to take back Dan for the umpteenth time. And for a while it stays that way. She remembers all the good things she can be when he's by her side and she's really trying. She signs up to take classes over the holiday break, and she'll only have to take one second year course next year to make up for the missing semester. She takes more literature courses, so she'll care about what Dan cares about. She takes writing, because she imagines there will be a day when Dan needs fresh eyes to proofread his work and he'll be able to come to her.

But there are other times.

She invites her study group to his loft, because it's where she almost lives. They've almost finished their project when the group decides they should read their lecturers book. (The accidentally—coinciding-opinion grade bump is a well-documented fact.) Her and Kris are left with _The End of Medieval Literature in Norway_. To stay awake they take a shot whenever their professor just happens to slide in some of his Latin skills.

The next day Dan accuses her of flirting.

But he's not mad.

_You don't even know that you're doing it—it's just what you do. _

It hurts. Dan always knows how to hurt her. He doesn't even mean to do it. But she just tries so hard to be what he wants, to think that no matter how hard she tries her nature will always out-it's a blow.

Usually she'd go to Chuck. Not even for sex, even if it sometimes ends there. She just liked knowing that there was someone who liked her exactly the way she was. But she has no crutch, no stabilising addictions left over from a previous lifetime.

So she does what she always should have done. She tries harder. When she sees Kris, she dims her smile just a tiny bit. And when her lecturer writes "one grade will be taken off _per diem_" she doesn't even meet Kris's eyes.

But changing everything about yourself…

It never gets any easier.

And she never feels any older.

}{

The first time she sees Chuck again is in the least likely place. She's by the university lakes, head pillowed on her bag. Her textbook is open on her thighs, but forgotten in favour of the bright sun and ultimate Frisbee game across the lake.

She senses him. It's almost eerie, but not really, because he always has those intense vibes that refuse to be ignored. She shades her eyes, watching him walk straight past her. His steps falter and he turns to look back at her. There's a second of silent appraisal, maybe a challenge. Chuck moves towards her, sits on the grass in his ridiculously expensive suit.

Serena can lie there carelessly in Ralph Lauren and he's never liked to be outdone.

She laughs suddenly as a careless throw sends the Frisbee straight into the lake.

Chuck cracks a smile when the heavily berated boy pulls off his shirt and dives straight in after it.

He glances down at her. "S—"

"Yeah, I know," she responds.

One argument. Six months of silence. And he earns her forgiveness with one syllable. He didn't even know how much he needed it until now. "I never wanted to mess us up," he admits.

"Neither did I." She smiles up at him. She has to squint to see him past the glare, but it's worth it, just to see the flash of happiness in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Nate's studying. He needed an out of print book." He'd tracked down the author, who had dozens of copies and surprised Nate with it in the Humanities Library. But he doesn't mention that, because it's kind of lame what he'll do for one dazzling grin. "What are _you_ doing here?" Serena would never take a class that demanded her Friday afternoons.

"Jenny's staying with us. Dan doesn't get to see her very often; I figured I'd give them time alone."

Chuck knows she's lying. Serena doesn't like Jenny, has never really forgiven her for past transgressions. He's always had a soft spot for Jenny, but it only goes so far. He has priorities. Three of them. No one messes with that.

He wants to say something so badly. _Come back. Please. Any way you want_. Because if Serena asked for it, he'd probably do it. His priorities—every one of them—make him weak. And even if she wanted to move in or something, he'd give in. No matter how stupid he thought it was. "Well, if you need a hand, or, you know, other body parts, my door's open."

Serena laughs. "I bet." Then she stills, lips pursing in concentration. "Chuck," she starts, and he already feels ill, knows where this is going, "I won't use you anymore. Not like that. I need to do things right. I need to deserve Dan this time."

He keeps his face blank, doesn't meet her eyes. _What about what I need?_

Cheering breaks out. The shirtless boy emerges from the lake, bright red toy held victoriously over his head, his other fist pumping wildly like he just medalled.

Serena claps along with the rest of the bystanders.

Truth this time: this is the right thing to do.

It's why she's always preferred lies.

}{

Blair graduates six months early _magna cum laude_.

She hugs Blair, smiles at her friend's happiness, but keeps one eye on Chuck.

He looks like something important had been torn from him at the sight of Blair's engagement ring and Nate's slightly embarrassed grin.

She lingers for as long as she can at the Hamilton House celebration, hoping Dan finds a way to make it to the party. With Dan by her side, she'll do the right thing. She'll go straight home. No detours.

Nate stops her, bright blue eyes darkened with concern. "So?"

She's not sure what he's looking for. "Congratulations?"

"Yeah, but what do you think?" he asks earnestly.

"I don't know." She really doesn't. "What do _you_ think?"

"That things didn't turn out the way I expected. I always thought—" he gives her a sidelong glance of almost amusement, "You know what I thought. But this…This feels good."

"Then _I_ think it's good ," she says firmly.

Nate gives her a grateful smile, which disappears too quickly. "I wish Chuck felt the same. Or at least stayed so I could talk to him."

_Please don't. Please don't. Please don't._

"Could you talk to him? You always understood each other. Just make him see that-" Nate dips his head. Forgiveness might be too much to ask for at this point. He shouldn't ask anything for himself. "Just make sure he's okay," he finishes roughly.

Serena smiles wanly. "'Don't worry about it." She'd tried to ignore the broken look in Chuck's eyes, tried to convince herself that it wasn't her place to fix him. She only knows one way to help Chuck, and surely life can't be that unfair. But Nate had asked. And Chuck deserves better from her.

She knocks. She isn't surprised when nothing happens. "I know you're in there! I can hear your glass!" Eventually she uses the key that Nate gave her.

He's at the dining table, a bottle of scotch open in front of him, of course. "Only you could _hear_ alcohol," he says snidely.

Chuck moves and drinks, sees and hears and is surprised that he can manage that much.

Because he's empty on the inside. His heart's broken and what's left is just some perverted reality of a person. Empty flesh and tissue that kept breathing and choking down drinks too stupid to know that it should just lay down and die.

Serena moves in front of him, sits on the edge of the dining table. "Isn't all this a little cliché?"

"Can't say I really give a fuck." He goes to take another drink, but Serena takes it, draining without even a wince.

He and Blair were balanced on that fine, shining edge of friendship that could have been so much more. He was certain it could be, if he could just find a spark of what they once were. They were Chuck and Blair and shouldn't that have meant something? Wasn't there a promise in there somewhere? He'd never been naïve enough to believe in forevers, but he thought they'd have longer. He thought they'd have another chance and this time it would last, at least long enough for him to tell her all the sappy, sentimental thoughts that had run through his head when he had no one to share them with.

"Chuck, I know this hurts, but it'll get better." She inches the bottle away from his grasp.

"You don't know a damn thing." He figured out her secret ages ago. No one can break Serena, because Serena breaks them first. She always loves them just a little less than they love her. Except Blair. And look how unhealthy that friendship is.

Just the thought of Blair makes his eyes shut, forces his head into his hands.

"Then tell me." She pushes his hair back, rubs his back in comforting circles.

He doesn't want to tell her. Doesn't want to talk about it, but it spills from his lips. "I never tried as hard as I should have with her. I let things slide, let business and scandals take precedence, because I thought she'd always be there. I thought I'd have a lifetime to make it up to her, make her happy." He's pathetic. He can see all the sympathy written in those ocean-blue eyes. He hates that look.

Chuck catches her around the waist, pulls her sideways onto his lap without resistance.

He nuzzles her neck, breathes in the scent he knows so well.

"Chuck—"

"Make me feel better," he says against her skin. It's a cheap shot, those words she'd used on him so many years ago. He presses his lips behind her ear, drags one finger down her shoulder, holds her tighter when she shudders the way he knew she should.

Just the weight of her, the feel of her body against his makes him instantly hard.

She kisses him softly, lips moving gently against his. She wraps one arm around his shoulders to steady herself, uses her other hand to undo the buttons of his shirt. He tugs at the sleeve of her dress, lips and tongue dragging over the exposed skin of her shoulder. Her nails rake over his chest, just a teasing burn. He slips one hand under her dress, slides it up her inner thigh and she's already so hot it makes him squirm against her,

She springs unsteadily to her feet. "I—I can't," she stumbles over the words, "I have to go. I'm sorry"

Chuck readjusts himself, glaring heatedly. "Fuck you, S. Run back to Brooklyn. Keep telling yourself Humphrey would still want you if he ever found out what you really were."

She doesn't let him see how accurately that barb lands. "When did you become such an asshole?"

"When you became such a fucking tease."

She runs back to Brooklyn.

She takes a shower before Dan can see her. A few tears mix with the hot spray of water, but they disappear into the drain as fast as the scent of scotch and expensive cologne.

Dan switches the bedside lamp on when he hears her come in. "Hey." He smiles sleepily.

"Hey." She crawls in bed beside him.

"Good night?" He opens his arms, lets her tuck her body against his.

She turns her head, presses her face into his chest before he can kiss her. "I'm tired."

He chafes her arms, tries to slow her shivering. "Alright." He switches the light off and wraps the blanket around them tighter. "I'm sure I can read about the latest exploits of the Upper East Side's finest on Gossip Girl, anyway," he jokes lightly.

"I love you," she whispers and the words hurt so bad, hurt like only the truth can.

But Dan remains silent, already half asleep.

}{

Dan starts writing his first novel before he even graduates.

She finds the pages everywhere. They're in bed, on the kitchen counter, barely legible words and arrows drawn in over the typed letters. This time, she grabs the manuscript from the lounge. She places it gently on the study desk in their bedroom. Dan shuts his laptop, raises his face for a quick kiss.

"Going out tonight?" It is a Saturday night after all.

"No. Don't think so."

"You should. Just because I've become a shut-in at the tender age of twenty-two, doesn't mean I have to drag you down with me." He plays with one of her hands, clutches her fingers, strokes the skin of her inner wrist with the tip of one finger, just because he can. It's been years, but it still doesn't feel quite real that he actually gets to touch her.

"Maybe I can help read over your stuff?" she asks hopefully. She wants to know the mystery of the pages so badly.

Dan's hand stills, he looks up. "I don't know. It's not really ready—"

"That's fine, really," she cuts him off. He presses a kiss against the back of her hand. She always understands. "Maybe I will go out," she adds.

Dan smiles encouragingly. "You haven't seen Blair in a while; I don't want the F.B.I barrelling down my door just because Waldorf thinks I've buried you in Prospect Park."

She can take a hint. She goes over to Blair's place, so Dan can have the loft to himself. Nate's sweet enough to play on his laptop, letting the girls have the lounge to themselves. Or maybe he just couldn't handle another minute of Hepburn.

She cuddles into Blair and ignores the curious looks. Blair doesn't bother with subtle when Serena's eyes water. "What's the matter?" she asks worriedly.

"Isn't it sad, the way Sabrina has to change so much for David to love her?"

Blair glances at the television screen, then back to Serena. It's only the second scene. She nudges the blonde gently to get her attention. "It's only sad that David was too stupid to see her before."

Serena just lays her head in the brunette's lap, letting Blair's proficient fingers comb through her hair.

}{

_tbc…_

}{

**E/N**: Sorry, Sorry. It was meant to be a two-parter, but this chapter just got too long and unwieldy for my taste, so I cut it in half. Plus side, next and FINAL chapter will be up in a day or two.


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning**: Angst. Language. Smut. What, It's my least favourite month, okay? Gotta' do something to bring in the cheer…

}{

_So when we think we've escaped the unbearable ordinariness and, well, untruthfulness of our lives it's really only the same old ordinariness and falseness rearranged into the appearance of novelty and truth._

-Angels in America

}{

Serena helps Blair plan her engagement party. It's relatively small. Just twelve people and a string quartet. Blair wants to minimize the embarrassment in case something goes wrong with the relationship. Serena assures her that won't happen, but Blair rarely listens to anyone.

She's not exactly looking forward to it for a few reasons, but Dan wraps an arm behind her waist and mimics Blair when the brunette's not looking. "_Oh, Humphey, I'm sure Nate had a suit you could borrow_." Serena laughs at his falsetto, and slaps the arm of his very nice suit. "_We'd have it taken in, of course. What do you wear? A boy's ten?_"

"You've started the mocking without me!" a voice cries from behind them.

"You find your own material," Dan quips, giving Vanessa a quick hug.

Serena follows, hugging her a second longer than Dan did. She doesn't like Vanessa, but Dan loves her, so Serena always smiles twice as hard, makes herself twice as bright in the other girl's presence. Years ago Dan had kissed her when she told him Blair had dropped the exile at her request. _Thank you so much for giving her a second chance_.

She left out the part where Blair mentioned not letting enemies strike from behind.

Thankfully, Blair had seated them all apart at the dining table. She got to sit on Blair's right side. Dan and Vanessa sat on Nate's left, across from Chuck. And she has no idea how Nate convinced Chuck to come, but he's here, looking sober and not unhappy. Nate makes a lovely toast, clutching Chuck's shoulder through most of it. He meets her eyes more than once, face soft and aglow. Blair's looking at him strangely, and Serena thinks Blair might have helped write it. Not that it matters.

When he sits down, she squeezes Blair's hand under the table. "Lucky, B."

Blair just nods, her eyes still on Nate.

She only turns her head at the right moment by pure chance. But Vanessa hands Dan a block of white pages. It takes her only a second to figure it out. She passes on dessert, leaning over to Blair's ear instead. "Be back in a minute. I feel a little light headed."

Blair narrows her eyes almost imperceptibly. "Little wonder with all the food you didn't eat, and the wine you've been chugging down. This _isn't_ T.G.I. Friday's, S," she hisses, never losing her perfect smile in front of the table.

Serena goes to the master bedroom. She'd rarely seen it when Eleanor lived here, but spent plenty of nights in it since Blair took over the penthouse. She takes off her heels, feeling steadier already.

She leans her forehead against the window, enjoying the cool glass against her skin.

Chuck comes in minutes later.

"You missed a good brawl between the minions over who gets to be a bridesmaid."

"Who won?" she asks absently.

"They're _minions_. There is no winning."

Chuck stands right behind her, looks out the window over her shoulder. "So, Humphrey and you… that still any fun?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her words leave a foggy patch in the glass, automatically she draws a heart in it.

"He was glaring daggers at your champagne flute," Chuck states in amusement. "Does he expect you to turn down that third glass even when you're just with him? If he were actually smart, he'd realise he has a better chance with your wits dimmed."

"You didn't come in here just to belittle my boyfriend, did you?" she demands.

"That was a fair part of it," he admits slowly.

"You know what I realised when Nate was talking?" he questions, not waiting for a reply, "He's going to make her happy." It still hurt, but he couldn't exactly hate either one of them anymore, well, not a lot anyway.

He watches Serena's face in the reflection of the glass. "And then I imagined Dan standing and talking to you." His stomach flips queasily. "I wasn't thinking about how happy he'd make you. I was thinking about how miserable you'd be."

Always Serena had bounced back, from everything, shinier than before. _Unbreakable_, he'd thought. When they were in school he'd wondered how she still seemed so pure, but he just knew that she wouldn't walk away from him that pristine. Sex with him didn't ruin her, so he figured it was a relationship that would.

But now…

Well, it wasn't him that made her glow fade.

Serena turns to face him. "You're still an asshole."

"Are you still a tease?" He smirks, runs a finger along the collar of her dress. The V dips below her beasts, but before his finger makes it very far she smashes her lips against his. He tastes her like a starving man, mouth working down her throat. He rips at the neck of her dress and slips one hand inside her bra. He's palming her roughly, lips and teeth working on the other nipple till she emits the right sounds. "Did badmouthing Humphrey get you hot?"

"Fuck you," she breathes, head lolling back and forth.

He smirks, resisting the obvious comeback. Her hand's cupping him through his pants and he's thrusting against her palm, forcing het tighter against the window; he's pretty certain dissing Humphrey beyond this point would be tacky. She pulls down his zipper as he shoves her underwear as far down as he can reach, letting her kick them off. He slips his fingers up her legs, watching her face for any sign she was about to bolt. "Fuck, even your thighs are wet," he growls. She moans a little just at his words, moans louder when he thrusts two fingers inside her. "Miss me?"

She doesn't answer, just pulls him from his pants, grips him as hard as she dares and fists him twice before he rips her hand away. Chuck lets out a feral sound under his breath. He can see people out on the streets, little more than blurs. He tears her dress off, because this is something that should be _seen. _The sane part of him knows people can't see that far, but he's half hoping someone has binoculars and a camera. No one should miss this.

He pulls one of her thighs over his hip and she wraps her leg around him automatically. She falls back against the window. "Chuck, glass!"

"It'll hold," he grunts, voice barely his own. He clings to the wall, one arm wrapped firmly around Serena—It'd be a hell of a thing to be wrong about.

She angles her hips for him and he drags himself through her wet heat once, twice, and he's already gone an entire fucking year without her, he won't wait a single second longer. He thrusts inside her, all the way to his base in a single stroke. She's hot and tight, and slicker than he can ever remember; he almost loses it right then. He pauses, tries to calm himself, but Serena's already fluttering around him. Her eyes are clenched tight and she makes a sound close to a whimper. "So close already, baby?" She curls into his chest and he presses his lips to the side of her face. "You did miss me, didn't you?" he asks, gentler this time.

Serena just nods against his chest, her fingers and nails straining against the back of his jacket. He's moving so slow now, so thick and warm. Her whole body's on fire one second, icy and trembling the next. "_Please._" She doesn't know exactly what she wants, just knows if she doesn't get it she'll go crazy. He fucks her then, hard enough that the glass trembles and he has to tighten his arm around her. He fucks her till she's pleading for it to end and contracting around him like a vice. He comes hard, grabs her other thigh before his strength leaves him. He falls to his knees, still throbbing inside her.

He thinks he'll remember the sound of sweaty skin sliding against glass and Serena panting till the day he dies.

For a moment they rest against each other, hearts pounding wildly. He pulls her hair to one side, runs the other hand up her sweat slickened back. "I missed you too."

Serena smiles faintly. For a whole minute she pushes away thoughts, clinging onto oblivion and sinking into the wool of Chuck's suit. Eventually reality sets in. They're on the floor of their best friends' bedroom, while Chuck's belt digs into her thigh and sounds from the party downstairs reach them every now and then. The thought of Dan only a floor below threatens to overwhelm her.

She stands, ignoring the sickening emptiness in her body and the trembling in her legs. "We better get downstairs."

Chuck looks at her, and she almost flinches, not wanting to hear any more of the ugly truths he carries around. As if reading her, he just nods, pulling off his belt.

"That means get dressed, not take off your clothes," she points out.

"I remember why people generally do that naked—gets hot," he replies blandly, walking into Nate's closet.

Serena just looks away, back to being as unsteady as she felt when she entered the room. She finds her dress and rushes into the en suite to take a five second shower. The neckline of her dress has a tear inches long, but it's still usable.

When she re-enters the bedroom Chuck's gone. She wraps one of Blair's jackets around herself and heads downstairs.

}{

Everyone's in the lounge. Dan throws up a hand when he sees her, instantly detangling himself from Blair. "There you are," he announces happily. Blair had been clinging to him hard enough that his arm ached a little. He throws an arm around Serena's back. "I was coming to look for you when Blair insisted we watch a DVD of school photos of her and Nate," he complains in good humour.

Suddenly he pulls his arm away, inspecting it before looking at her head. "Why is your hair wet?" He peers closely at her face, obviously noting the lack of make-up. "Did you have a shower?"

"Warm water for my migraine," she explains easily.

He touches the blue coat. "You're wearing a jacket…"

"It's chilly."

"Is it?" Vanessa asks slowly, coming up behind Dan.

Dan just frowns worriedly. "You must be getting sick."

She nods, taking the out he offers.

At Blair's side, she loops an arm around the other girl's neck and hold her tight. "You're the bestest," she whispers, dropping a kiss to the smaller girl's head.

Blair rolls her eyes, remaining stiff in Serena's arms "I thought this was over." When Serena doesn't reply she sighs. "You're cutting it awful close," she snaps. She'd caught the look in Chuck's eyes when he left the dining table. But she really thought they were smarter than that—her fault, of course, because if there was something left to screw up, Serena and Chuck would manage.

When neither Serena nor Chuck reappeared she'd decided it was best to keep an eye on Humphrey.

She'd caught Chuck slipping down the stairs and cornered him before he could leave. He'd muttered a congratulations and something about being all partied out through glossy lips the same shade as Serena's had been. She'd only noticed he was wearing Nate's tracksuit pants as he smirked at her from the elevator.

"Bestest isn't even a work," Blair points out eventually. She's not happy. She is, in fact, angry with the situation, but she'd rather be angry and protecting them than unhappily hanging them out to dry.

Serena squeezes her tighter. "Still true."

}{

Serena does get sick after that.

She stays in bed for four days with the flu. She's feverish, sore, and nauseous. Dan goes to every one of her classes to take notes then rushes back to the loft to check on her.

All this leaves her tragically unhappy.

A tiny part of her she can't silence believes this is her penance. And Dan is ruining it.

On the third day she's strung out from a fever that won't break and sleep that never seems to come. Dan brings her a bag of goodies.

She can't stomach any of the sweets, but Dan begs her to at least try the sandwich. It's a grilled cheese cooked in truffle oil. "C'mon I had to go to Blair's so Dorota could make it the way you like." He brushes a few strands of hair away from her eyes, but Serena just turns her face further into the pillow. "Blair accused me of causing your sickness by forcing you to live in Brooklyn, when clearly you aren't built for living amongst the impoverished masses. Then she told me if you're not better in a day, she'll come see what I'm doing wrong." He smiles sweetly, but Serena can see the worry in his eyes.

He's so nice. It just makes her feel like dying.

"Isn't that worth one small bite?"

"You shouldn't have," she murmurs into the pillow.

"You know I'm kidding. I'd go through ten Blair's to get your sandwich."

Serena can't stand to look at his face. "I wish you'd just stop," she whispers. "You don't have to be here all the time," she adds in a voice too low and haunted to be her own.

"Serena, you're sick. Where else would I be?" he asks seriously.

Every act of kindness just humiliates her more. Sickness and guilt flow together till she can't tell one from the other. All she does is take and lie and cheat, when he's never been anything but good to her.

Dan covers her body with his own, wrapping his arms around her blanket covered body. "Shh, it's okay. Don't cry. Please don't cry. You'll get better soon, I swear."

Serena just sobs harder. Dan makes soothing sounds, each one tearing at her heart.

}{

It takes another week and a half for her to shake the flu, but still it seems to linger, as if embedded in her very bones. She goes to a week of classes, but even with Dan's notes she feels lost and behind. There are so many things she could do. Dan took half her classes last year, Nate's in one, not to mention the tutors or lecturers she could ask for help, but she keeps putting it off till just the thought of going to a lecture leaves her overwhelmed.

Chuck texts her too often, wondering why she missed one event or another. Blair calls her every other day, and Serena does what she does best. She lies. She complains about the half a dozen midterm papers she has to write, which is true, only she has no intention of actually writing them. Some film festival starts, and she's relieved. Dan and Vanessa have plans for practically every day. He invites her a long, but she knows it's out of obligation. Any other time she'd be hurt (didn't she take a class on the _Nouvelle Vague_, too?), but she's just so grateful that he'll be too busy to pay attention to her.

She goes to Blair's for lunch on Sunday, because to do anything else would be suspicious. She doesn't even know exactly what she's hiding from Blair, just that she is hiding things. Or maybe she's just gotten so used to feeling guilty, hiding things is her automatic response.

She runs into Nate in the foyer. It's still weird to think of the Waldorf's as his home now.

"Hi, _you_," she greets brightly.

Nate meets her eyes evenly, the corner of his mouth turning down in displeasure. "Hey. People are—" He waves his hand in the direction of the dining room, as if the words are too obvious to say.

Blair, Chuck, and a few of their friends are picking at platters and chatting happily. "Serena!" Blair says loudly, clearing the seat beside her. Serena grabs a cupcake for her plate before even sitting down. "Why didn't you tell me you were still sick?" Blair demands.

"Because I'm not." She spent twice as long on her make-up, so she know she can't look _that_ bad.

Blair tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Hmmn," is all she says, clearly indicating this wasn't over.

"So how's engaged life?" Serena asks, changing the subject.

"Wonderful," Blair replies breezily. Well, there have been a few arguments, but Nate almost always sees reason in the end.

"Nate seemed a little off."

"Yeah." Blair glances around to make sure no one's paying attention. Chuck is, but he's on the opposite end of the table. "Nate found your underwear under his side of the bed." It had led to one of the most uncomfortable conversations of her life, which was saying a lot considering she'd been determined not to tell Nate anything.

Horror rushes over Serena. She makes the mistake of glancing at Chuck and feels her face heat more. Chuck raises an eyebrow, obviously trying to decipher their conversation.

"But really, S, there _are_ other bedrooms," Blair hisses quietly.

"We didn't touch your bed—"

"Ugh," Blair moans, "Enough, enough! I'll forgive you for subjecting my room to that sort of debauchery as long as you _never_ give me another detail about what you do with you-know-who." Blair's anger had diminished into discomfort (with maybe a little jealousy, not that she'd ever admit that), but thinking about the two of them, _together_, was all kinds of wrong.

"Nate knows…?"

"He figured it out." _Then asked Chuck. _

Serena put down her fork. The cupcake was the first thing she'd really enjoyed in weeks, but now she couldn't eat. Nate knew. Nate hated her. He wasn't just Chuck's best friend, he was one of Dan's best friends too, and she hadn't treated either of them right.

"I think I'm going to go," she says quietly. "Nate won't—?"

"No," Blair finishes quickly. Nate's first allegiance had never been with Dan. Nothing she says changes Serena's mind about leaving, so she grabs her hand. "See a doctor, S. You are _not _okay," Blair informs her harshly. It wasn't just the way she looked, Blair just _knew_ something was wrong.

Before the elevator doors shut Cluck follows. Serena feels a lot like sighing, but that's not exactly fair. Chuck presses the emergency stop button.

Serena slumps against the rail with a pained expression. "I'm tired Chuck."

Chuck glares balefully. "And you think I'm not? How long exactly are we going to play this game?"

"What do you want from me?"

He smirks, because he couldn't think of a better opening. "I want you to grow up." He stalks closer. "I want you to open your eyes and see what's right in front of you. Stop pretending that all your hopes and dreams rest on Humphrey when you come to _me_ when you want something, and _me_ when you need something."

Serena's expression turns careful. "I love him…"

"Do you?" He gives her a calculating look. "Maybe you do. I know that you love the idea of him, of what he means to you. You want to be the girl who falls in love with the nice Brooklyn boy with ink-stained fingers." He gets it. He does. She wanted to be someone else, someone other than a delinquent fifteen-year-old who hands over lethal doses of cocaine.

That girl would have fallen in love with Chuck Bass.

Serena hates that girl.

She bows her head, feels like crying, but her mother taught her better than that.

"Chuck—"

He turns away, before she can apologize or some shit. He needs more than an apology. He hits the emergency button again and the elevator starts. "I really hope you figure it out, S."

}{

She does try, but it's hard, because Dan's there smiling and she can't see past everything he's ever meant to her.

But things get harder. Dan stumbles upon her emails. Her inbox is nothing but messages about overdue assignments, missed study groups, and penalties for failing to meet minimum attendance requirement.

She's sitting crossed legged on the lounge, when Dan sits on the coffee table. He blocks the television, sits so close she has no choice but to look at him.

"What's happening with you, Serena?" In his hand he has the last lot of assignments she did. All days overdue and barely passing. And those were from when she still attended one or two classes.

Serena shrugs. She has no more answers than he does.

"You could have told me. If you were struggling…Or if you just don't like your classes. Whatever the problem was, you should have told me." He just looks increasingly bewildered when Serena remains silent. "Do you think I'd be mad? Or disappointed?"

Finally she whispers, "I don't—I was mad. _Disappointed_—in myself."

She can't stay and watch him. If he is disappointed in her, that would be bad enough. If he wasn't, then he never expected any different. That would be worse.

She's on Blair's floor without ever thinking about it.

Nate comes down first, shirtless and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He looks at her in mild alarm. It is October and starting to get cold, too cold for her to be wearing a slip and cardigan. Not that it would ever be an appropriate outfit.

She doesn't meet his eyes. "Blair?" she asks weakly. And she's too old for this, too old to be running to the Upper East Side hoping to hide behind Blair's strength. Blair has her own life and her own problems, a fiancé and a law school to conquer. She shouldn't have to deal with this.

But still, Blair walks into the foyer and Serena knows she's exactly where she should be. She rushes into Blair's arms like she has a hundred times before.

"Dan called me," Blair says softly, hugging the blonde. And it wasn't all that surprising. Nate had told her he hadn't seen Serena in class all semester. Of course she'd just assumed Serena was paying a note taker.

Nate looks from Serena to her. Blair just moves her eyes to the doorway. He gets the hint, stopping to touch Serena's shoulder on his way out.

"Sweety, it's not that bad. It's just one semester and I'll help you make up for it during Winter semester and—"

"Blair," Serena stops her suddenly, pulling away. "It's not that."

Blair can feel it. "What is it, S?" she asks almost hesitantly. That part of her that knew her best friend inside and out started shouting that something was very, _very_ wrong.

}{

_tbc…_

}{

**E/N**: Oh, you thought when I said "final" chapter all in caps lock, this would be the _final_ chapter.

Yeah, so did I.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Apologies for the lag. I meant to spend two days home for the holidays, but spent three weeks, then arrived back just in time for rain and floods and five ridiculously long days without electricity. Better late than never, I guess.

**A/N2**: It was a rough week. Try to overlook the sappiness…

}{

_Does it make any difference that I might be one thing deep within? No matter how wrong or ugly that thing is so long as I have fought with everything I have to kill it?_

-Angels in America

}{

She wakes up alone in Blair's old bedroom. Blue walls and lace curtains make her feel more at home than she's felt in a long while.

There's a note on the bedside table.

_S, _

_Gone to class. Don't go anywhere!_

_We'll figure this out. _

_-B_

It's not one of those mornings when the night before feels overblown. It's not one of those mornings where the problems of yesterday feel distant. It's just another morning where she wakes up and wishes she didn't.

It's already midday when she goes downstairs. Dorota is immediately in front of her, hovering like an over concerned mother.

"Miss Serena, would you like some breakfast food or lunch? Miss Blair suggest I make you something special. Lots of nutrients. She say you been sick, not eating right." She shakes her head, horrified at the thought of one of her girls, out in the world, with no one to care for them when they get sick.

"It's fine. I'll make something later." Dorota purses her lips, straightening her spine almost imperceptibly. "I'll let you know when I decide on something," Serena corrects herself with a wan smile. Dorota had been dealing with Blair and her issues with food for years. Serena knows she wouldn't stand a chance.

Serena searches through the pantries for coffee. She knows Blair likes the French press stuff, but she really just wants instant. She doubts Waldorf's do instant coffee. Three more cupboards and she finds a bottle of Moccona next to Nate's stash. Silently she thanks Nate. She takes the coffee, eyes lingering a second too long on the whiskey,

"Don't bother thinking about it," Chuck drawls threateningly.

"I wasn't," she answers, turning. "And aren't there laws against stalking?" she asks before taking a closer look at him. He looks fazed, eyes a touch wild in his stony expression. "What's wrong?"

Slowly he slides a manila folder across the bench towards her. She half opens up the top page, reads a few words before slamming it shut. "Blair told you?" she whispers in amazement.

"No," he responds darkly, "but she damn well should have. Neither of you have the right to keep this from me."

"How'd you find out?" No one knows. She's sure of it. She only went to the doctor a few days ago and Blair is the only person she's told.

"You looked sick…" he trails off. He was worried the last time he saw her. He found her doctor's office and paid a nurse to copy her files. But he did it on a whim, a vague feeling that something wasn't right. He hadn't expected this.

Serena bites her lip, fights hard just to meet his gaze

"The dates all add up. It's mine, isn't it?" he bites out, sharp eyes boring into her, trying to read her very soul.

She crosses her arms, lifts her chin and refuses to be read. "You don't know that. You don't know when I was with Dan—"

"Don't Serena!" he roars. "Not one more fucking lie. _Not one_! Not about this."

Serena looks down for a split second, then looks back up and there's nothing left in her eyes. It's just that cold socialite steel. "It's Dan's."

Chuck pales. He spreads his hands out on the bench so he doesn't stagger. _She can't. She wouldn't. _

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" he asks disbelievingly. "Serena, what are you thinking? Do you think you're going to get away with this? Do you think this is going to end happily?"

There's only one thing she is certain of. No one's getting a happy ending. Not in this story.

Chuck tries to find a balance, tries reason. "I've never asked you for anything—"

"Then don't ask for this!" She steps around the counter, trying to regain control of her breathing.

Her words leave him stricken. This world—he always knew it was screwed up; he never thought it could be this malicious.

Her breath is coming too fast and her vision Is strangely blurred, but she isn't going to fall to pieces. Not now.

He sidesteps her, blocking the exit. "Fuck, Serena. Just listen! You are about to do something really, really stupid. Can't you tell when you've gone too far?"

_No. Yes. No. Yes. _

He moves out of her way, praying she'll stay.

"Bye Chuck."

}{

He's still there when Blair and Nate arrive home an hour later.

He's not doing anything. Just slumped under the kitchen bench, clutching the manila folder in both his hands.

Nate's grin fades slowly.

Blair pauses just inside the kitchen door, but Nate keeps walking till he covers Chuck in his shadow. "What's up?" Nate asks quietly.

"Ask your fiancée," he responds sullenly.

Nate glances over his shoulder, but Blair simply glares at Chuck. "How should I know?" she responds slightly too fast.

Nate just sighs, reaching down to take the folder. Chuck grabs for it, but Nate's reflexes are better. He flips through the pages, face frozen in shock. He glances back again. "Is this what last night was about?"

Predictably, Blair remains silent.

He holds down a hand and pulls Chuck to his feet. "Are you—are you the...?" And he stumbles over the words, not quite ready to call Chuck _that_.

Chuck gives a caustic smirk. "It's _Serena_. That kid could be anyone south of the North Pole's."

Blair just frowns at him. Nate looks between them, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "What does Serena say?"

"Same thing she always does: _Dan_." The words don't come out as sarcastic as he intended. They're bleak and painful and no one can find a response.

"Where is she?" Blair asks after a moment.

"_How should I know?_" He mocks childishly.

He snatches the folder back on his way out.

}{

As much as Serena once loved Georgina (and she had loved Georgina a lot once), she hates her now.

Oddly, Georgina's the person that plays on her mind most now.

_I've changed_.

There'd been nothing but a disbelieving flicker of swampy blue eyes.

_Clever Georgie. Always knew too much._

She'd fallen into a hole this deep only once before, and she always believed Georgina helped dig it. Now that she's in here alone, no way out, she can't help wondering how Georgina got out.

After all, she's playing Georgina's cards this time around.

_I guess you haven't changed as much as you thought…_

But she is different, isn't she? It can't be the same. She loves Dan. That has to count for something.

But didn't Georgina love him once? Didn't Georgina look up at same boy, pleading for him to make things better?

It's visible now. The slight imperfection in her stomach that is going to topple down this house of cards. It will destroy everything.

Bitterly she wonders who it inherited that gift from.

They pass the afternoon tangled in Dan's sheets, ceiling fan whirring slowly. Dan holds his hand over her lower stomach, eyes so enraptured it makes her ill.

"I know you didn't want this, Serena, but everything's going to be okay."

Serena smiles beautifully, because she knows no other way.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Now she's made a liar out of Dan too.

}{

"_Oh_, S," Blair breathes, voice filled with sympathy, disappointment, and just a tiny bit of fear.

"What?" Serena asks guilelessly. Denial was always Blair's bit, but Serena's learning fast.

Blair just shakes her head. What can she say? She knows Serena, knows that once she's made a decision there's no point in arguing. If Serena wants to lie to Dan, and Chuck, and the world, well, Blair would too.

"This is what you want?"

Serena just looks a way. "_Blair_" she begs, already at her limit for _everything_.

"Okay, we'll go shopping then," Blair replies, easily changing the subject. "Alice and Olivia have some of the cutest baby dresses and –"

"No!" Serena shouts suddenly, before regaining control. "I just mean—I don't think we should…"

Blair takes a step forward, plants her hands firmly on her hips. "I know what you meant and it stops now, Serena!" She lowers her voice, mindful that Dan might be home. "You're what, four months along? And you didn't find out till this week?" Blair asks, voice dripping with accusation. The avoidance and the suspicious behaviour—it all makes sense now. "You can't pretend this away."

Serena glares back. "Like you can talk."

"And who was the one who forced me to face reality?" Blair shoots back. "You want Dan? Fine, I'll do whatever it takes to keep this charade going, but if you think I'll let you punish your own baby for your mistakes—"

"I wouldn't!" Serena cries, eyes widening in shock.

"Really?" Blair asks disbelievingly. "Then where are your prenatal vitamins? Where are your gynaecologist appointments? Why do you look like you haven't eaten a proper meal in a week?"

"I don't—I wasn't thinking." Serena's face falls into heartbreaking lines.

Blair pause for just a seconds, makes sure the whole of her message has sunk all the way through, before taking the blonde's hand. "I know, but we've got a lot of work to do, okay?"

Serena nods in response, quiet and afraid.

"And it's not going to be all bad. Think of the tiny custom Louboutin's we have to order." Blair smiles gently. She never actually believed Serena would purposely hurt her baby, but sometimes Serena refuses to grasp the implications of her actions.

(In her current position, that should be obvious.}

Serena giggles. "It might be a boy, you know."

"Nonsense." Blair's lips tighten. The idea of Serena's daughter makes her want smile uncontrollably. A son of, well, it doesn't need to be said to know that _that_ would be trouble. "Fine. We'll go to Baby Gap, see if they have any—" _Don't say bowties. Don't say bowties. _"Flannel shirts, just in case."

"I don't think the baby has fully developed lungs, yet. I'm not sure it needs a new wardrobe."

Blair waves a finger at Serena's stomach. "Oh, you are just so lucky you have Aunty B. Yes, you are," she coos.

}{

"Surprise!"

Serena struggles with the scarf around her eyes. Blinding sunlight pours through unfamiliar windows and she blinks a few times, trying to clear her vision.

"Where are we?" Serena laughs, looking back and forth between Lily and Eric.

Her mother gives a soft smile, letting Eric take the lead. "Your new apartment." His eyes crinkle in excitement, just waiting for her reaction.

"What?" Serena spins around twice, taking in the pure white walls and empty timber floors. She looks out the window then shoots a knowing glance at her mother.

"What? Is it a crime to want my daughter within a reasonable distance?" Lily questions.

The apartment is only two blocks away from the Van der Woodsen-Humphrey penthouse.

"You didn't have to do this, you know," Serena says, already wandering through the rooms.

"I know, Serena. You've already proved your independence a hundred times over. But when the baby comes you'll want your family near. You'll want all the help you can get," Lily finishes ominously.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

She hugs Eric, because it's easier.

She knows it's also an apology. Her mother hadn't taken news of the pregnancy too well. There had been a lot of _what were you thinking _and _you're throwing away your life_, before the resignation had set in. The fact that Lily had to hear the news from Rufus hadn't helped.

She lets her mother make all the plans about furniture, decorators and how long they'll stay in the loft before this place is ready.

}{

Dan's gone more than ever. He's frantically trying to organise early assessment for his classes and push his book through the editing process.

She's still drinking her breakfast shake at the kitchen when he runs past her, planting a swift kiss on her cheek.

"Bye!" He throws open the door, nearly running straight into Nate. "Hey." They both manage a shoulder slap greeting, despite their overladen arms. "I was just running out…"

"It's cool man. Just got some more deliveries."

"I guess it's a good thing we've got the new place, this one will have to be converted into a warehouse for Waldorf's 'deliveries' soon," he complains loudly enough for Serena to hear.

With a wave he's gone.

Serena wrinkles her nose when Nate comes in. "More books?"

"Apparently these should get you to the two-year mark," he replies. "Where do you want them?"

"I can take them."

"I'll throw them in Dan's old room."

She gives a loud sigh. "Better hurry before I have to carry my cup to the sink all by myself," she mutters sarcastically.

Nate returns quick enough. "Come on, S. Give me a break. If you tripped carrying them and Blair found out, I won't ever get married." He shoves his hands in his pockets.

Her laugh stops short at his serious expression. "What?"

Nate stares at his feet. His lips are dry and this is just so hard. But he can't _not_. When he looks up his face is almost stony. "I'm sorry…"

Serena goes cold, already dreading his next words. "_Why_?"

"I can't—I can't let you do this. Not to Dan. Not to Chuck."

"What do you mean?" she asks in a strained voice.

He's never denied her anything before. Every muscle in his body wants to just apologise and run out of the apartment. But he already broke Chuck's heart once this year. If he lets Serena do it too, he'll never be able to claim the title of "friend" again.

"If you don't tell Dan, I will. For Chuck's sake."

"Don't do this Nate."

Those huge navy eyes plead with him and he weakens just a tiny bit. He looks away before she can do more damage. "I'll give you time to get a DNA test, if that's what you want."

"Please—"

"No. I'm sorry, Serena, but I have to do this." He _did_. He'd never seen the look on Chuck's face before. This was destroying him. And for no reason that Nate could understand, Chuck refused to do anything about it.

She tries to find something to say. Anything that would just make him _stop_. But Nate blanches, taking a step backwards. And she already knows what he's staring at over her shoulder. She spins, hand flying to cover her mouth.

"_Dan_." She takes a step forward, but Dan's face paralyses her.

He feels just as frozen. He keeps thinking about his manuscript. If he'd just grabbed it before he left he would never have found out. If he'd pulled those papers from his desk and shoved them into his bag like he meant to then his life would still be perfect. He'd have come back this afternoon and kissed Serena before whispering loving words to her stomach. He wants to scream, wants to fall to his knees and beg her to take the words back, beg the universe to break its own rules and just let him _unknow_ it all.

But seconds pass and there's nothing but Serena's frantic eyes and Nate's sorrowful gaze.

"Is it Chuck's?" The words are hollow. He hears them as an echo.

Serena takes another step forward. She shakes her head, even as tears pool in her eyes, giving away the lie.

"How could you? How could you, Serena?" It's just a devastated whisper, but Serena looks like she's been slapped.

He collapses against the frame of the door, screwing his eyes shut. He can't stand to look at her now. It hurts. Not even in the sourest, most suspicious parts of his mind could he have imagined Serena could do this. Not Serena who was all childish giggles and innocent smiles.

"Dan, I was going to tell you! I _was_! I just—I needed time. And I couldn't hurt you!" Truth, lies, she doesn't know anymore. She buries her face in her hands. "I never wanted to hurt you." This is truth. The only truth she's certain of.

The words are mumbled into her hands, past her tears, but he still hears them. When he opens his eyes it doesn't hurt quite as much. Maybe it's because he doesn't recognise the girl in front of him. Her tears barely reach him. Her beauty doesn't touch him.

He doesn't know who she is.

Maybe he never did.

Dan leaves without saying another word.

She doesn't hear anything, not even her own sobs until Nate's words finally reach her. He whispers apologies, pleads with her to calm down. She shoves him away, scrubs at her face with the back of her arm and disappears before Nate can think about following.

}{

Chuck presses an icepack to his jaw, scowling till his fussing assistant finally leaves.

Employees pass by his office, gawking through the tinted glass walls. They'd been surprised enough when they found out their elusive CEO was actually in the building, hearing about him getting assaulted in his own office whipped them into a gossip frenzy. He touches the remote on his desk and blinds drifted soundlessly across the glass. He lets himself slump forward, dropping the dripping icepack to the floor.

Chuck had stood as soon as Dan marched through the doorway, a scandalized secretary following until he waved her away.

In three quick steps, Dan was only inches away. Chuck didn't move. He knew what this was about, could see it in Dan's devastated eyes, could hear it in the too sharp breaths.

"How long?" Dan had hissed.

"How long—what?" He played dumb, reluctant to dig himself or Serena in any deeper. If that were possible.

Dan shoved him hard and Chuck took a step back to keep his balance. "You and Serena. _How long?"_ Dan shouted, quickly losing what little was left of his reason.

There was another slight pause as they locked gazes. Chuck desperately wanted to look away, didn't want to see that shattered look he'd helped create. (Hadn't he warned Humphrey, in every way possible, that one day he'd break him?) But if Dan could feel all that, then he should at least be able to look at it.

So he watched him evenly, and gave Dan the only thing he could. The truth. "I don't know."

In those three words, there was so much. Too much. A convoluted story that never quite stops before it starts again. He can remember the first time Serena came to him, and the last, but there are a hundred other times between and he can't remember which times Dan was somewhere in the background.

Dan had heard it too. He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, swinging his fist hard and clumsy, catching Chuck's jaw more through sheer luck than anything else. Chuck stumbled backwards, catching himself on the edge of his desk.

He was really fucking sick of getting punched by Dan Humphrey. But he was more sick of deserving it, so he didn't back away, didn't try to get a punch in, just watched warily as Dan took a step closer.

"You ruin everything you touch, Chuck," Dan had pronounced slowly, words coming from somewhere deep and bitter. "And everyone." One day he'd probably feel sorry for Serena, but then all he'd felt was glad. She had made her bed. The edge of his lip curled in disgust. "You, her, _all of you_," because it was the four of them, the Upper East Side's cruellest offspring, with their secrets and lies and vicious loyalty, who had destroyed him, "you make me sick." And it wasn't even meant as an insult. Just the truth.

He hadn't waited for a response. There was no point. They never changed. And every second around them was toxic. Hadn't Jenny proved that?

Chuck struggles to sit up again, picks the ice from the floor when half his face feels like it's on fire.

The pain is oddly cleansing.

}{

It takes Blair an embarrassingly long time to track down Serena. Honestly, her first thought was _bars_, so it was already dark as she pushed open the unlocked apartment door. The scarce furnishings were covered in tarps, scaffolding pushed against the walls. She hadn't actually been here before, so she stumbles down the hallway cursing the lack of electricity, before she finally finds the master bedroom.

If you can call it that when there's no bed.

Serena's on the linenless mattress, legs curled tight to gather what little warmth she can from her too short dress.

With a sigh Blair slips out of her shoes and coat. She curls up in front of Serena and spreads her woollen jacket over them.

Serena wriggles closer, a slight shiver running through her body. "Cold."

"Mmn," Blair agrees. Even with their faces only inches apart she can't decipher the look on Serena's face in the dusky light. There's probably a lot of questions she should ask. Stupid ones, with obvious answers, like _are you okay_. Instead, she asks the least important one. "Why'd you come here?"

"Wanted to be alone," Serena murmurs. Because she was kind of awful, and when you're that awful, you probably shouldn't have anyone comforting you.

"Too bad," Blair says fiercely, pressing her forehead against Serena's as if to prove this.

}{

She doesn't go back. Not for a while. But she's buying new underwear for the second time that week when she realises how truly pathetic she is.

So she goes to Dan's, to the loft that was never as much _theirs_ as she liked to pretend. She knocks, using her key only when no one answers. Nothing's changed. It just feels that way.

Her towel is thrown carelessly over a dining chair. Her favourite mug sits by the sink. But the safety is gone. Dan and his Brooklyn loft had always been a retreat, a safe haven from the whirlwind that her life too often became.

She destroyed it with her lies, and not even she can pretend to be surprised by that.

Still, when she enters their old bedroom, there's a part of her that wants to crawl into the bed and beg Dan to hide her for just ten more minutes. Instead, she catches sight of his manuscript and she's already betrayed him in all the ways that count, so one more can't possibly hurt.

But she's wrong.

Because it hurts her.

She closes it before the second chapter. She packs her suitcase, never wondering why she can fit her life into a single bag, never wondering why what was supposed to her home contains so little of _her_.

It doesn't hurt that the female protagonist is blonde and tall and too beautiful for words. It doesn't hurt that her heart is bigger than her brain. It doesn't even hurt that her existence foreshadows the downfall of all those around her.

It hurts, that as much as she resembles that character, it isn't her.

It's not Dan's fault either.

She'd always tried to be someone else for him, someone better, it's only fair that he never knew her.

It's only fair that her paper doppelganger is nothing more than a shallow reflection of a girl that she and Dan created.

}{

He doesn't go to her.

It's a close thing, but in the end he's still Chuck Bass and at some point he's got to remember a time when he had pride.

So he waits. He has people watching the airports and Nate watching Blair and there's no way, no way at all that she can escape without him knowing about it.

It pays off. Two weeks later she's at his suite. It's different this time. There are no forlorn eyes or too-loud laughs, none of what he's come to expect from s Serena at his door.

He slouches against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "What do you want?"

There's only a second of hesitation before she pushes past him. "Be nice. I come bearing gifts." She offers up a new folder.

He scans through it. Doesn't say a word. Doesn't lift his eyes. As far as olive branches go, it's pretty much a trump card.

His fingers graze over the sonogram. Really, it's just green and black blurs to him, but he knows what those blurs represent and still can't quite believe it.

"It's a girl," she says with amusement, because Blair's always right and how stupid of her to forget that.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky, barely his at all. Serena just smiles sadly from his lounge, pulls one leg up to her chest and gazes at him too steadily, too long. "What?" he demands. She shrugs, looking away. He sits in the opposite chair, knowing this is the worst part, the part where they have to talk about feelings, as if either one of them ever learnt how to do that. "So…I'm surprised you're still here. Figured you'd be destroying yourself on some foreign beach."

"Really?" She laughs prettily and he doesn't believe it for a second. Serena lies like she breathes. Even her laugh lies. Abruptly, she quietens. "Do you remember the first time I kissed you?" He shakes his head, even though he does. Serena continues as if she didn't see him. "I'm twenty-two. When I was fifteen, I made a mistake and ran away. That was seven years ago. Seven years, Chuck. That girl doesn't exist anymore."

Her words make as little sense now as they did when they were fourteen. But it seems important to her. "I know that," he says simply, as if it were obvious.

It is important. She wants it to be different with Chuck. She doesn't want to ever realise that she spent years being loved by someone who never knew who she was, but almost immediately she feels foolish. Because to Chuck there'd never been any doubt as to who she was.

It makes her feel worse.

"I'm sorry." The words only seem more inadequate every time she says them.

"I know." Things had always been that easy between them. He wouldn't change that, not even for his pride.

She stands, nudges her way between his legs. "I don't know how to fix things between us."

He loops his arms loosely around her hips, tilts his head back when she curls her fingers through his hair. Fixing things is his job, too. Always.

"I love you." It's unmanly. He barely says it without choking on the words. But if he'd said those three words a year and a half ago, when she'd wanted to stay with him, when she'd wanted them to _last_, then they probably could have avoided a lot of misery.

She watches his struggle, understanding how badly he wanted this conversation over. "We'll never last," she announces lightly.

He relaxes against her. "Probably not," he agrees.

"We bring out the worst in each other. We can't be in the same room without fighting," she adds conversationally.

He tightens his arms around her waist, rolls his eyes up to smirk at her. "Unless we're fucking."

"You're disgusting." He ignores her, pressing kisses through the cotton of her shirt, the heat of her stomach making his lips tingle. "And I love you anyway."

"I know," he murmurs again. Because he knew her, and it was the only thing that made this whole ordeal bearable.

One of his hands slides around the back of her thigh. She shivers lightly when his fingers play over her skin, just below the hem of her skirt.

No one had made her feeler safer than Dan.

But no one could make her happier than Chuck.

She leans down to press her lips against his and it feels like benediction.

"Maybe you can come stay at my place sometime," she offers.

"Yeah?"

She smiles beautifully and he sees straight through it.

"But you have to tell my mom."

}{

Fin.

}{


End file.
